


Past, Tense

by hollybennett123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Barebacking, Barely Legal, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can't be sweet talked into misusing his time-travelling abilities except for when he can be, and then threesomes happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past, Tense

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Dean's birthday in January. Lighthearted fun, set any time within canon past or future.

Castiel, angel of Thursday, messenger of God, cannot be charmed. He cannot be won over with slow smiles or sweet talk, for these are simply tactics that humans use when they wish to coerce one another while pretending to be nice about it. Only someone of weak mind and even weaker conviction in themselves would allow someone to influence them to do things against their better judgement simply by being charismatic.

Of course there is an exception to the above in the form of Dean Winchester, who apparently has powers that most humans do not, including (but not limited to) a superhuman ability to detect danger even when sleeping, That One Thing With His Tongue, and a talent for manipulating Castiel like he’s some sort of celestial puppet created solely for Dean’s amusement.  This is why Castiel finds himself standing outside a motel room in Arizona on the twenty-fourth of January 1997 while Dean sits inside and drinks beer with the just-turned-eighteen-year-old version of himself as though such things are acceptable and not at all _completely ridiculous in every way_.

Although Castiel doesn’t tend to make a habit of time travel unless he has good reason, now that he is well practised at it they have found that it can come in useful on occasion when working a hunt; for instance, tracking down weapons or books that they have possessed at some point or another and now need again is far easier when one can simply borrow them from another period and then return them promptly with a little angelic assistance. This, Castiel doesn’t mind; it is useful. It helps people. It is _using his powers for good_. He isn’t entirely sure what Dean thinks they are going to achieve from today’s little adventure, but he is pretty certain that _good_ is in no way involved.

Dean had somehow managed to convince him that this trip to 1997 was wholly necessary through some partially true and partially exaggerated pleading that it was the only way he could get the parts he really needed for his car. Also, Dean had pointed out, it was his birthday tomorrow and as Castiel hadn’t bought him a present, some ‘sweet time-travelling mojo’ would work instead; since Castiel still doesn’t really understand the traditions surrounding birthdays and will do quite literally anything to avoid setting foot in a human shopping mall, he had been forced to concede and agreed to send Dean back to his chosen date and time for a few hours.

Dean had chosen his own eighteenth birthday for three reasons; he could get the parts for the Impala he needed, he knew for certain that his father and Sam were out until the late evening, and finally (and this is the part which resulted in much arguing from Castiel) he could spend the afternoon drinking and reminiscing about old times with his past self. As much as Castiel tried to stress how bad an idea it was due to the potential to inadvertently change the future, they both knew that eventually Dean would wheedle his way into getting what he wanted and Castiel would agree to it while frowning at him disappointedly.

Eventually it was agreed that at seven o’ clock in the evening Castiel would travel back himself, clear eighteen-year-old Dean’s mind of all memories of visitors from the future, and they would return home again. Dean was not to talk about angels or the apocalypse or anything else that could overly alarm his teenage self, and most importantly he was not to do anything _stupid_. Castiel had added the last part on as an afterthought, not because he thought it would do much good, but because at least then he couldn’t be held accountable for whatever Dean decided to do.

And so, Castiel finds himself standing outside a motel room in Arizona at seven o’ clock in the evening on the twenty-fourth of January 1997, waiting for Dean to answer the door with a feeling he believes is known as trepidation.

~~~

“Hey,” Dean says with a grin, leaning on the doorframe.

“Hello,” Castiel replies, sweeping past him into the room. Nothing is on fire or dead, which is a positive sign, though Dean’s eighteen-year-old counterpart is mysteriously absent.

“Where is he? I hope your arrival didn’t cause him too much distress,” Castiel asks him. Dean picks up a bottle of beer from a nearby table and takes a swig.

“No, it was fine,” Dean replies, propped up casually against a wall. There’s a gleam in his eye that Castiel really doesn’t like, or possibly likes a bit too much. “Quick shot of holy water, silver knife, the whole shebang and he was fine.”

“You still haven’t mentioned where he actually _is_?” Castiel reminds him, scanning the room once again.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean smirks around the lip of his beer bottle. “He’s in the shower. Wanted to freshen up before… what could happen next.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks him, narrowing his eyes. Dean has evidently been plotting in his absence. With another Dean. This is very very not good.

“Well…” Dean says, placing his beer back on the table and coming to stand in front of Castiel. The gleam in his eye is getting no less gleam-y. “Thing is, we were talking about stuff, and then we were talking about _you_ , and then that kinda moved onto sex with you, and long story short? I want you to fuck him while I watch. If you want. He’s totally up for it, and I mean that in all possible ways,” he adds with a grin.

Occasionally, Castiel has no words. This is one of those times. He simply tilts his head slowly to one side and frowns, considering the man in front of him. He isn’t entirely sure why he does it, but it sometimes makes him feel as though he is considering something perplexing from another angle, one that may grant him more clarity. In this case, it simply turns his current view (Dean is a moron) into a slightly different one (Dean is a sideways moron).

“If you don’t want to, I’ll just tell him no,” Dean says with an edge of uncertainty to his voice; he at least has the good grace to look mildly embarrassed with himself.

“Dean, why would you want this?” Castiel asks him, taken aback.

“Are you kidding me, Cas? It’d be the hottest thing ever,” Dean says, sliding one hand under the trenchcoat to splay over Castiel’s hip. “Like watching Dean and Cas: the Porno but having it actually happen right in front of me. And eighteen-year-old me? I might be biased here, but he’s pretty damn easy on the eyes,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. He leans in to press his lips to Castiel’s and then starts to trail kisses down his neck.

“Your modesty never ceases to amaze me,” Castiel says drily, but there’s a stutter of breath there he didn’t intend. Dean’s mouth is _very_ distracting.

“You act all pissy but you know you love it,” Dean whispers against his ear, pushing Castiel’s trenchcoat and jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor in a slow slide. Castiel can’t even begin to deny it.

Dean has him tethered with his unknotted tie when Castiel eventually senses movement and pulls away from Dean’s mouth, untangling himself from the fabric looped loosely around his neck; he’d almost forgotten there was someone else here.

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” Dean’s younger self drawls with a leer from where he’s leaning on the doorframe that leads to the bathroom. He’s shirt-free and towelling his tousled hair, jeans pulled on and only half zipped up over bare skin. Castiel just stares because he can’t _not_. This Dean is so familiar and yet so different. He’s beautiful, as he always is, but in a different way; all lean, tight muscle where his own Dean is broader. He’s slightly shorter, too, no taller than Castiel himself is.

“Dean,” Castiel greets him with an uncertain nod. This is all _very_ strange. Teenage Dean throws his towel back into the bathroom and steps closer, looking Castiel up and down. He’s definitely not wearing any underwear beneath those jeans, not that Castiel is looking or anything.

“And you must be Cas,” Dean responds with a cocky grin. “Heard a hell of a lot about you, and you’re just as hot as he said you would be.”

There’s all this easy, casual confidence in him, Castiel thinks with awe. He wonders if Dean knows his own power, then and now, all sly smiles and glass-green gazes that could make anyone fall for him. It’s Dean, who he knows so well, and yet he has no idea how to talk to this version of him.

“And what, exactly, did he tell you about me?” he asks, partially curious and partially needing to say something, _anything_. His own Dean has slipped his hand under Castiel’s shirt and is rubbing his thumb in circles over his hipbone, making blood rush to places in a very pleasant way.

“Well,” Dean’s younger self replies, “he said you aren’t human but you’re one of the good guys. Said you’re quiet and kind of a genius and secretly a total badass. He also said you were religious, which, no offense dude? Never thought would be my type,” he continues.

“Oh, yeah, he’s definitely the praying type,” his Dean adds with a wink before taking a step back to allow his teenage self to come closer. “Spends a lotta time on his knees, anyhow.”

Castiel tries to glower at him but can’t help the corner of his mouth turning up because it’s nothing but the truth.

“Is that right?” teenage Dean says he presses himself up against Castiel, whose legs feel like liquid. “He said plenty other things too; kinda wanna see if he’s right.”

It is very difficult to think when you are _very_ hard and someone _very_ beautiful is stroking their fingers over your jaw line and kissing the corner of your mouth.

“So how ‘bout it then? You wanna fuck me?” he murmurs into Castiel’s ear and Castiel suddenly can’t remember if there are any words that exist in the English language other than ‘yes’. There is a very small part of him, though, that wonders if this is alright. This is not _his_ Dean; this man in front of him is barely a man at all, a boy of eighteen all fresh-faced and pretty and Castiel wants him so, so badly. He’s a total nightmare, impossible to resist, and yet he’s everything Castiel didn’t know he ever sought.

Dean leads him to the bed and Castiel sits down, looking up at him.

“You don’t know me,” Castiel says quietly.

“Yeah?” comes the reply, low and heated. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time I’ve fucked a stranger, Cas; wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been with a dude, either. But you’re personally recommended by the _future version of me_ , and I don’t think you can really get much better than that.”

And then Dean is climbing into his lap, straddling Castiel’s legs and rubbing his body up against him, graceful and lascivious. Castiel’s hands go instinctively to the boy’s waist, anchoring him and preventing him from falling, but the feel of Dean’s bare skin and narrow body beneath his grip makes him _want_ , urgently, and he isn’t sure whether the impulse comes from his own mind or whether it is instinct woven into the skin he is wearing. He has difficulty distinguishing between the two sometimes, though he gets the impression that humans are often just as mystified by their own sexual wants and desires despite having always had their bodies and minds tied together as one.

Dean’s fingers are cupping Castiel’s face now and the tips of them keep on moving, stroking over his cheek, over his jaw, rubbing the sensitive spot behind his ear…

“Fact you’re so damn worried ‘bout hurting me or whatever means you’re obviously a nice guy and all, I don’t need any more convincing,” Dean says with sincerity, looking Castiel directly in the eye. He’s so _close_ and Castiel can’t help the way his hips shift up just that little bit, seeking friction, and Dean’s eyes flash. He laughs on an exhale and smirks knowingly at Castiel and then _oh_ , he’s pressing his hips down and forward into Castiel in a way that makes heat spiral pleasantly throughout his entire body. If there weren’t layers of clothing between them he’d be pushing up and _in_ , the phantom feeling of it making his cock twitch as it reacts to the notion.

“I know you want me real bad,” Dean murmurs, so close his breath tickles the inside of Castiel’s ear. “Why don’t-” Dean continues (pauses, _licks_ ), “-you just hurry up-” (soft bite to the bolt of his jaw), “-and _fuck me_ ,” and Castiel’s breath catches in his throat because he desperately, absolutely wants to do that. He cannot think of any possible reason why they shouldn’t do this now, lust and heat stealing his thoughts from him and unravelling his mind in the most beautiful way imaginable.

He hears a quiet-growled “ _Please, Cas,”_ from his own Dean sat sprawled in an armchair nearby and he struggles to deny one Dean, let alone two.

He is utterly unresisting as the teenager in his lap pushes him flat against the mattress and makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Castiel pushes himself up onto his elbows and pulls it the rest of the way off as Dean removes his own jeans, leaving him gloriously naked and hard and kneeling beside Castiel.

“Shift back a bit, man, need to get between your legs,” Dean grins at him and leans over to lick briefly into his mouth. Castiel lets his own mouth catch the full swell of Dean’s lower lip as he pulls away, watches his chest flush a little with warmth.

As instructed, Castiel moves back so that his legs are entirely on the bed and he wants to sob with relief when Dean’s hands go to the waistband of his pants and pull them down over his cock along with his underwear, right off his legs so that he can kick them over the end of the bed.

Dean’s fingers are strong and sure when they wrap around Castiel.

“Damn,” Dean breathes, jacking Castiel slowly. “Looks real nice; bet it’d look even nicer with my mouth on it, though.”

The image it paints in Castiel’s head has him gasping but then it’s actually happening _right there in front of him_ ; Dean relentlessly maintains eye contact until Castiel has to throw his head back and just _feel_. He feels the pad of Dean’s finger circle his entrance teasingly, and tries desperately not to allow his hips fuck roughly into the back of Dean’s throat. Dean is making little hums of pleasure that vibrate right through Castiel; suddenly he feels like he is getting a bit too close and he really, really doesn’t want to come yet. Or rather he _does_ , to an extent that threatens to power his better judgement, but he knows through the haze of pleasure that he needs to hold back. There is so much more he wants to do, if Dean will let him.

“ _Wait,_ ” he gasps as Dean carefully lets the head of him slip the furthest he has done yet, where he can actually feel his throat constricting around him deliciously. “I don’t wish to come yet, Dean,” he adds through deep breaths, trying to fight the feeling of _yes I do, I really do, right down your pretty throat_. Dean pulls off only minimally, holding Castiel’s cock a fraction of an inch from his reddened, spit-slick lips.

“You sure you don’t wanna finish in my mouth?” Dean asks, then flickers his tongue obscenely up and down over the sensitive frenulum with a smirk. Castiel can barely hold it together, but thankfully manages to summon up the last of his shattered willpower.

“ _Stop that,_ ” Castiel commands firmly, and he sits up to grip Dean’s hair with one hand to hold him in place. Dean’s eyes go dark, pupils dilating in reaction to Castiel’s sudden display of dominance over him. He loses the smirk just a little bit, and waits submissively for Castiel to make the next move. “I’m nowhere near finished with you yet, Dean,” he states, eyes fixed upon him, and he hears simultaneous groans from both the teenager before him and the older version.

Castiel spares a glance towards the future Dean; he’s sat with his legs splayed casually, jeans still fastened but rubbing his palm and the heel of his hand against the bulge of his erection. Their eyes lock for a few moments before he turns back to the boy on the bed.

Letting go of his grip on Dean’s hair, he kneels before him and just kisses him, deep and slow and desperate for a good minute; he plans to take Dean apart with his tongue and his fingers, getting him writhing and lust-drunk before he finally gets inside him properly. He’s sucking on Castiel’s tongue now in imitation of previous acts and he really needs to move this forward before it goes too far again; he reluctantly pulls away and places a hand to Dean’s chest.

“Lie down,” he directs, and Dean eagerly does so, moving to lie with his head against the pillows, legs spread wantonly and watching his every move. Castiel hovers over him with the intent of kissing his way down his body, but at that moment Dean reaches out to take hold of his bicep.

“There’s a lot of power in you, ain’t there?” he says softly, sounding slightly awed. Castiel is surprised, and simply looks at him. “I can feel it in you, in here,” he says, stroking his fingers over his arms and his chest, eyes sweeping down over his body. He doesn’t seem frightened at all by what he can feel, merely curious; this Dean is very perceptive, his youth and open mind allowing him to judge Castiel by feel and by intuition. Castiel simply nods in confirmation and swallows thickly. “It’s really hot,” Dean says, looking up at him through his lashes, and the bare curve of his neck is too much for Castiel to resist. The groan Dean lets out as Castiel sucks and licks over his neck and shoulder is like nothing he’s ever heard; of course, he knows exactly where Dean’s most sensitive spots are and can use them to drive him wild.

He moves down over Dean’s chest, pausing to brush his fingers over his hard nipples, using the barest hint of fingernails just as Dean likes. He is quiet but responsive under his touch, arching into him and moaning breathily as Castiel plays him and hits all the right notes. He looks absolutely beautiful laid out under Castiel like this; he looks striking to him at any age or in any situation, but moments like this one truly take his breath away. A few seconds of staring are too much for Dean’s patience, apparently, as he threads his fingers into Castiel’s hair and applies just the slightest hint of pressure.

“You gonna blow me, Cas?” he says roughly, and Castiel allows himself to go with the movement. He is amused at the exhale of surprise when he ignores Dean’s cock altogether, wrapping his arms around Dean’s legs and settling flat to the bed between Dean’s thighs.

“Fuck, no one’s ever-” Dean gasps, but it splinters off into a moan as Castiel licks over his hole. He has to hold Dean down as he works the very tip of his tongue inside to keep him from bucking right off the bed; he always loves doing this, feeling Dean shake apart against his mouth, but he has never been quite as uninhibited and vocally wild as the teenage version of himself clearly was. Dean is gasping Castiel’s name like a prayer, groaning and rolling his hips and utterly lost in the feeling as Castiel flattens his tongue and just licks over and over and _over_.

When he has Dean spit-slick and yielding beneath him, he pulls back and wipes the saliva from his chin.

“Do you have lubricant?” he asks Dean, whose eyes are looking rather glassy and dazed.

“What?” Dean asks, smiling serenely up at him and trying to lift his hips enough to grind his cock against Castiel’s hip where he’s propped up over him. Something lands on the bed beside him and Castiel realises that _his_ Dean must have thrown the tube across for him. He looks around to see that the man must have been using it on himself, jeans pushed down under his cock which is glossy under the slick up-down motion of his hand. Castiel quirks the corner of his mouth up in a smile of thanks and Dean gives him a filthy smirk in response, holding his gaze with an eyebrow raised as he keeps his hand sliding up and down his shaft in a steady rhythm.

Tearing his eyes away, Castiel squeezes some of the slippery gel out onto his fingers and slides one carefully into the tight clench of Dean’s eighteen-year-old body. He’s so, so tight, but he can feel him willing his body to relax around the intrusion almost straight away. Moving his finger in steady back and forth motions, he moves so that he is laid slightly to one side, stretched out alongside Dean with their mouths almost touching. He kisses Dean gently, trying to get him to relax further. Between kisses they just breathe one another in, each breathing hot and damp across the other’s skin; he half-expects Dean to pull back from the intimacy of it, but it never comes.

“Like taking things slowly, don’t ya?” Dean says shakily, and Castiel can hear the smile in his words. Castiel kisses him again, slips his tongue into his mouth at the same time as he adds a second finger. Dean gasps and kisses him harder; taking this as encouragement he moves his fingers more vigorously, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s perineum and the crease of his thighs.

“Such a fucking cocktease, you wanna hurry up there? I’m not a fucking virgin,” Dean groans and Castiel simply smiles before crooking his fingers to hit his prostate with practised accuracy. He presses the pads of his fingers into it several times in succession, causing Dean to shout out a litany of _oh god oh god oh god_ ’s, his cock leaking all over his stomach.

He was already wet, but now it’s dripping out of him constantly, running over his stomach and pooling in his navel; Castiel’s mouth feels tight with the want to lick it out. Instead he keeps working him with his fingers, no longer hitting his prostate but working him open more gently, keeping him on the edge of orgasm. He isn’t exactly sure when he wants to let Dean come, but it isn’t yet.

After a couple of minutes of three fingers and profuse begging from Dean, he finally removes them, stomach swooping pleasantly at the visual of Dean stretched tight around his fingers and the thought of being able to push inside his hot, lithe body at long last.

“Damn, I was so close then,” Dean groans. “You gonna get in me or what?”

Castiel pauses and sweeps his fingers down over his sides, eyes flickering to meet Dean’s.

“Did you want to use a condom?” Castiel asks him; they would not normally use one, but this Dean and Castiel are technically strangers to one another and it has been in the back of his mind since they began.

“Never done anything without one; I kinda want to make an exception here though, if you’re clean too? Want you to come in me,” Dean says, and Castiel nods in agreement. He’s a little surprised by how much trust Dean has put in him throughout, but as he had said, Castiel isn’t a stranger in the usual sense. Dean knows what this person will one day be to him and he seems content to take advantage of the trust they will one day build. He’s completely at ease with him.

Castiel sits back against the headboard, leaning back just a little to give Dean space to straddle his lap.

“Like this?” Dean asks, rubbing the head of his cock against Castiel’s stomach.

“If that is alright with you,” Castiel replies, hands on that sinfully erotic waist again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

“Nah, this is cool, not tried it like this before. S’perfect,” Dean smiles and kneels in position. Castiel guides his own cock into place, slick smearing over Dean’s lubed entrance; his body really, really wants to push up and just _take_ , but he takes deep, even breaths and allows Dean to take his time. His breath catches in his throat as Dean slips down just a little bit onto him, the tight squeeze of him almost painful around his achingly hard cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Dean gasps, pushing his own cock against Castiel as he bounces just a little, taking him in that tiny bit further. Gripping onto Castiel, one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair, Dean’s body opens up around him and he sinks all the way down in one long, shuddering slide.

He then promptly ejaculates all over Castiel’s stomach, which is _mind-meltingly_ arousing; Castiel desperately wills himself not to follow him over the edge as Dean groans and trembles against him, cock spurting white almost up to their chins.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asks him when Dean eventually slumps against him. If he asks him to pull out now he’s going to _weep_.

“Yeah, fuck, that was _intense_ , man,” Dean grins at him, voice gone all sex-roughened and deep. “Keep going, it’ll take me only, like, a couple minutes to get hard again,” and Castiel marvels at the wonders of the teenage human body. Dean starts to ride him so beautifully it makes it head spin, and Castiel works a hand in between them to help stroke him back to full hardness once again.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me, Cas,” Dean breathes against his ear. “Can see why you and me end up together, you’re a _damn_ good lay.”

Castiel has had just about _enough_ of sass and attitude and trying to keep himself collected as Dean pushes every button he has; lifting Dean bodily off his cock, he deposits him on his back on the bed. Picking a leg up over each arm he pushes back inside and fucks deep and hard, long strokes from base to tip that have Dean shouting and grasping at the sheets.

“Fuck, _yes_ , fuck me harder,” Dean groans, pulling him down so that they are pressed together completely, Dean’s legs around his waist as he works his hips in a punishing pace. It’s mind-blowing, somehow a totally new experience and yet absolutely familiar, pushing deep inside this body underneath him.

“Dean, Dean, I’m going to-” Castiel pants breathlessly against his shoulder in warning as he feels himself draw tight, right on the edge of orgasm.

“Yeah, sweetheart, come inside me, wanna feel it,” Dean murmurs, stroking his hands over Castiel’s back. His voice and the maddening grip of him are too much; Castiel stills with a groan, buried to the hilt as he spills inside him.

It takes him a few seconds to focus before he slides slowly out of Dean’s body, come leaking out as he pulls out completely.

“ _Damn_ ,” Dean murmurs and takes hold of his own still-hard cock, stroking himself with his eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy. Castiel feels boneless and sated, but wants to finish Dean off for himself. It only takes two fingers thrust into his wet hole and Castiel’s mouth on his cock for a few moments before he’s swearing and fucking up into Castiel’s throat through his release. He hears a groan from his own future-Dean, like he’s getting really close to coming but holding off just a little longer.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” eighteen year old Dean laughs, breathless and blissed out where they lie side by side. “ _Awesome_ , man. I can see why future me decided to get it together with you, Cas.”

The bed dips next to Castiel on the side where Dean isn’t, and suddenly his own Dean is propped up over him, topless and jean-clad and working his hand over his own dick in quick, twisting strokes.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” this Dean, _his_ Dean, groans, kissing him open-mouthed and filthy. He can see the younger Dean out of the corner of his eye, propped up on one arm and watching with interest. “When we get home, I’m gonna do you so fucking hard you’re gonna feel it for a _week_.”

His hips stutter and he orgasms with a quiet moan, pulsing come over Castiel’s cock and between his legs before rolling off to collapse beside him. Castiel is sandwiched between them, the three of them barely fitting on the bed, but he feels ridiculously content and happy.

“Now _that_ I’d like to see,” teenage Dean laughs, rough and gorgeous like crushed glass. “I wish you didn’t have to go now, and I really fucking wish you didn’t have to do some freaky mind-wipe thing because this would be one hell of a memory,” he continues with a pout, looking at Castiel and running his fingers in lazy patterns over his stomach. Future-Dean lifts himself up on one elbow to address his younger counterpart.

"You know, I remember that dad and Sam were gone ‘til pretty late tonight, probably around eleven-ish though we could say ten just to be sure?” he says with a smirk.

“Which means you’ve got another few hours before you have to go,” eighteen-year-old Dean grins in return.

The two of them strike up the most ludicrously casual conversation over Castiel’s body between them regarding potential surfaces in the motel room he might be fucked on, over or against once his own Dean is ready for round two, and the potential ways in which Dean’s younger self is going to be involved. They all sound really quite wonderful.

Castiel closes his eyes and relaxes with a contented sigh. He _definitely_ needs to get in on this whole having-a-birthday thing ASAP.  



End file.
